


Full Circle

by ElynnaAmell



Series: The Circle and The Sword [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:45:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3211322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElynnaAmell/pseuds/ElynnaAmell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elynna's life as Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Senior Enchanter of Kinloch Hold and Mistress to the king of Ferelden from 9:32 Dragon to 9:42 Dragon.</p><p>Major WIP; expect a great many revisions and additions (this is chock full of fragmented chapters).</p><p>Heads up: the last few chapters are going to be re-worked like crazy. Too many inconsistencies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work in Progress, fragment.
> 
> Set in 9:33, Kirkwall.

Those damned statues again. Five years had passed since she’d last set foot in the city of her birth, but those statues still evoked fear. Irving’s presence had calmed her before, but now she was alone. Garbed as the Warden Commander she was, she was ready to use the Right of Conscription if need be. She’d avoid it at all costs, though; using the right publicly mandated that the joining would absolutely take place. She wanted him alive, and safe, above all else. She’d left him here before, but she’d be damned if Daylen would spend another day in this city when she had the power to reunite their family, to keep him safe in Ferelden and not cowering under the Knight Commander’s petty whims, or enduring the abuse of the sadistic Gallows Templars.

“Daylen has a critical function in this Circle; he is the Knight-Captain’s secretary and valet. I cannot allow you to deprive my highest ranking officer of his own support staff. Particularly while he is not here to protest this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WIP
> 
> Set in 9:34 during the coronation of Divine Justinia V at the Grand Cathedral at Val Royeaux. For timeline purposes the coronation takes place after the events of Act II of Dragon Age 2.

Elynna’s heart was in her throat as she made her way through the darkened building with Wynne. The Grand cathedral was eerie at night—almost reminiscent of the Temple of Sacred Ashes after the cultists had been exterminated. Four years earlier she had anxious gripped her sword, waiting for cultists she had missed, who lurked in the shadows to steal their hard won pinch of ashes. Now she gripped her staff with the same anxiety. The tensions during the coronation did little to reassure her that the Templars patrolling would simply let her pass. And yet they found the room with no trouble to speak of. Wynne used the pre-arranged pattern and knocked.

A tall woman with severe features, Cassandra Pentaghast was not someone who disappointed in person. The Hero of Orlais nodded to her and bid them enter. Leliana was pacing in front of the fire as they entered, though stopped to smile at her old friend. It was the third woman in the room who commanded Elynna’s attention, however. Seated on a rocking chair in the corner, Divine Justinia looked almost grandmotherly. Her sharp features and sharper eyes would dissuade anyone of that notion quickly, however. She had removed the elaborate mitre and robes of her office, dressed in the simple red and white robes of a much lower ranking sister, grey hair pulled back into a bun. Once again, Elynna knelt before the Divine, bowing her head to kiss her ring.

Justinia raised her hand in benediction, “Bless you, child.” Elynna rose and murmured her thanks. Until now, Elynna had largely trusted Leliana’s judgement of the woman, though looking into her eyes was confirmation enough. Faith, strength, and a certain canniness shone from them. Though more importantly, much like Revered Mother Mathilde of Circle Tower, no fear or distaste showed, no prejudice against a mage. Given why they had all gathered here, it was unlikely there would be, yet it never hurt to know with personal certainty.

The door opened again and two men entered. Garbed in red robes, both were senior enchanters of their circles, but the resemblance ended there. Thorold of Hossberg’s thick mane of light brown hair had the distinction of being mostly grey, though his brown eyes remained bright, framed by unexpected laugh lines. Broad of shoulder and tall like the Anders generally were, the man was an imposing sight. The Ander was a contrast to his countrymen though, always the first to laugh or joke when the opportunity arose. He had a reputation for diffusing tensions and his apprentices were wont to sing his praises to anyone who would hear. 

Quiet, squat and with something of a paunch, Senior Enchanter Isidore of Cumberland was a man easily ignored, especially in the company of Thorold. Known for keeping his counsel close, his words carried enormous weight when he bothered to opine at all. 

Both men entered and acknowledged the Divine as Elynna had, though both soon studied the Hero of Ferelden with not a little curiosity, even evident on Isidore’s face.

The years since the events at the Grand Cathedral had been kind to Galyan D’Marcall, clearly. The only signs of age he carried was a subtle lining around his eyes, otherwise he looked nearly as young, if not younger than, Elynna.

“You have all been called here to serve the Maker and his divine plan. Your position as senior enchanters, your affiliation with the Aequitarian fraternity and the high level of regard each of you has within your circle, indeed across all circles in Thedas will be key."

“The fact that four of you are responsible for running the Mage’s Collective attached to your circle is additionally beneficial.” Leliana added.

Wynne’s raised an eyebrow at that and Elynna choked on her tea. She hadn’t even known who directed Ferelden’s Mage Collective. 

The divine continued as if Leliana had not spoken, “The Circle is as much a part of the Chantry as the Templars or the clerics. And yet, too often, mages simply remain wards."

“Just as the Knights Divine serve under the Right Hand, so too shall you serve under the Left. Five Fingers of the Left Hand, reaching out to preempt strife, to still the chaos before it can take root."

“I do not ask any of you to go against your principles in this. All of you to a certain degree have already been doing the work that needs to be done: raising your voices when needed, a quiet word to the right mage, a deft touch to calm a troublemaker. I merely wish to grant you my resources that your good works might go further, might avert a war that appears to be brewing on the horizon.”

Galyan was the first to take a knee, earning a quickly concealed smile from the Seeker. Elynna followed suit, their three elders following as quickly as their joints would allow.


	3. Chapter 3

Elynna frowned at the report on her desk. There appeared to be structural issues with the outpost in Gwaren. Absentmindedly she scratched her jaw, wondering how in the Maker’s name Voldrik Glavonak’s work had been botched. He had done the stonework for all the new Warden outposts, and each had been as sturdy as Vigil’s Keep. The new Vigil had stood complete for a year, fortifications far superior to the original upgrades she had ordered; Voldrik had had carte blanche to remodel the keep as he saw fit. His work had saved a lot of lives during the Amaranthine Crisis and she trusted his expertise implicitly.

In fact, she had helped him secure a commission to rebuild the walls of Denerim after the Vigil and the outposts had been finished. That had been three years ago, and the project was nearing completion, drawn out due to expenses and unforeseen issues, including Deep Roads outlets that needed to be properly sealed. Everything Voldrik did was done to perfection the first time—making her concerned about Gwaren. She’d send a note to the Senior Warden of Gwaren as well as Voldrik; it was potentially nothing, but the outpost was built up against the old Deep Roads outlet. The darkspawn had remained unpredictable since the Architect’s death and she had no wish to take any chances. Elynna grabbed her quill and began furiously penning out a response; her erratic scritch scritchings making a strange counterpoint to her brother’s measured jottings.

Firebrand, charismatic, kind, loving, passionate. All of these words had once described Daylen Amell, though to attribute any of these things now would serve as much purpose as describing a chair similarly. Certainly no one would attempt to describe the eerily calm accountant of the Vigil’s Keep thusly. Many of the Wardens had little idea of how to deal with the presence of one of the tranquil; Velanna was openly revolted by him and took little pains to hide it. Elynna’s guilt over Seranni allowed Velanna that leeway, though Nathaniel would too often need to intervene before they destroyed their friendship. And yet at some level she understood what he was. Many took him to be simpleminded or lacking memory at all. Neither was true, though it often took some effort to get Daylen to remember their childhood. Elynna could take Velanna’s barbs, what she couldn’t stand were those who treated her brother like some mindless beast. Daylen would simply take it, not having the will or emotion to care; perhaps that was the worst of it.

She sighed. Aunt Wynne was supposed to be returning from Orlais soon. She’d gone to seek out her old friend, the tranquil elf Pharamond who was researching the reversal of the Rite of Tranquility. Elynna held onto hope that she’d get to meet the man her brother had once been, if Wynne succeeded. The information she had received from Anders not long after he settled in Kirkwall had helped immensely, though it had still been nearly a decade of false trails with this research.

Garavel’s measured knock beat against the door, before he opened it after a prescribed number of seconds. The man ran like clockwork. “Commander, First Enchanter Irving and Knight Commander Greagoir are here to see you. Shall I bring them back here?”

Maker’s breath. This couldn’t be good. “Yes, Garavel. And send my regrets for anyone else I needed to meet with today—we are not to be disturbed.”

“Yes Commander.”

Greagoir entered looking a bit grim, holding the door for Irving. Both cast quick glances at Daylen, who continued as if there had been no interruption.

“We heard from Wynne.” Irving’s voice seemed to increasingly resemble a creaking door as the years went by.

“Your Golem friend, Shale, sent word through the


	4. Chapter 4

The missive from the Chamberlain of the Grey lay on her desk. The world had finally gone mad. Every last Orlesian Warden was hearing the Calling. Weisshaupt had been notified and garrisons across Thedas were ordered to speed up recruitment to replace those who would be lost in Orlais by order of the First Warden. In an accompanying letter the High Constable questioned her directly about the Wardens in Western Ferelden. The Calling had never been known to respect political boundaries and he wished to confirm that Ferelden and Nevarra had not been affected as well. The High Constable had a valid point though; especially since the Jader garrison had been Called. The panicked missive Elynna had received from Senior Warden Gerod Caron had tipped her off about the issue long before Weisshaupt even knew. But now it seemed certain, that every Warden in Orlais had heard the Call. Elynna sighed, thinking she would need to ride to the Vigil immediately to see what reports Nathaniel had received. The timing was poor; Alistair had gone directly to Redcliffe, incensed about the rebel mages abusing his hospitality and throwing out Teagan and Kaitlyn. She had already told the squadron accompanying him that under no circumstances was the King to approach unless it was clearly safe.

Elynna chuckled to herself. Her insufferable Templar still thought he could go charging in blindly as if he wasn’t the king. She was certain he’d made sure to specifically note that the Chancellor would be directing any business from the palace until his return, effectively leaving her, his voice of reason given human form, at home. Elynna had asked Leorah to go with Alistair for the sole purpose of knocking him on his arse if he couldn’t be bothered to listen.

Chancellor of Ferelden or not, Warden business this serious would take precedent, however. She grimaced, knowing Eamon wasn’t going to like this; the King had specifically ordered her to rule in his stead. Yet Eamon it must be. Teagan had gone along with Alistair to see if Redcliffe could be retaken, but Eamon had elected to stay in the palace. The king’s Counselor did not wish to undermine his brother in his old Arling and preferred to keep a close eye on Ferelden’s affairs. She ended up wrangling with Eamon more often than not—the old dog was canny and had pulled a fast on her more times than she could imagine. Nonetheless, she still liked and respected Alistair’s sort-of Uncle, as both kept Ferelden and Alistair’s best interests at heart, though Alistair himself had proved a highly intelligent and adept ruler, needing each of them less each passing year.

Within the hour she was on the Pilgrim’s Path to Amaranthine. Her horse, a gift from Alistair, was a beautiful chestnut warhorse with a white blaze and white stockings. His gait was a steady mile-eating canter that allowed her to reach Amaranthine quickly. While recruitment into the Wardens had predictably surged in the aftermath of the blight—the memory of the horrors of the blight as well as her own heroism had done much to help that along—reorganizing the Wardens had still been tricky. For two decades during King Maric’s reign the Wardens had been a small band based in Denerim. Yet in less than a decade Elynna had managed to build the Wardens into a force that had a presence across the realm. The reclaiming of Soldiers’ Peak and gifting of Amaranthine had concentrated Warden power to the North of Ferelden.

Unsatisfied with what that meant for the rest of the realm she had added garrisons to Ostagar, Haven, and Gwaren. After much discussion with the Keepers in the Dalish lands around Ostagar she had worked out a treaty that guaranteed that the majority of Wardens at Ostagar would be elven and that they would rebuild the old Warden tower in the Wilds rather than encroach on Dalish land. The city of Gwaren had been founded because it was an outlet from the deep roads to the sea. Knowing that the old passages could easily be used to overwhelm the city, Elynna had employed both Dwarven engineers and more experienced members of her new crop of wardens to create a compound at the main outlet. And Haven… Well, convincing Alistair that the labyrinthine tunnels near Haven required some monitoring had been easy. Especially once it had been realized that a separate set of tunnels seemed to lead downwards from the village. She had been convinced that she’d eventually hear tales of Darkspawn mauling some hapless pilgrims as the worst of the tales out of the former Avvar town. Not the explosion. Not that carnage. Every one of her Wardens had been at the Temple for reasons she couldn’t discern; she lost all of them.

Prior to the Conclave, her system had worked well, mostly. Gwaren, Ostagar and Haven were each outposts under the command of the Vigil, reporting directly to the Constable of the Grey, Nathaniel Howe. Kayla Dryden, Levi’s young sister, and Oghren jointly ran the training garrison at Soldiers’ Peak. In theory.

Realistically, Oghren was good at motivating the recruits, but Kayla was the soul of efficiency in itself, keeping the place going like clockwork. That her relatives helped to shore up the infrastructure in terms of services made her truly invaluable. Elynna often joked with Nathaniel that he was lucky he had been joined before Kayla; she would have made a brilliant Constable. While Kayla was sure to pass pertinent information on the Vigil, the Peak answered directly to Elynna, as did Denerim which was administered by a grim Senior Warden, Terric, who had transferred in from the Free Marches. The system had worked well, though since she largely remained at Court, information coming from the outposts was always rather old by the time it had reached Nathaniel and then passed to her.

Haven had been her westernmost garrison and she hadn’t been able to rebuild since the Conclave, particularly with the so-called Inquisition squatting there; if the Calling had seeped into Ferelden, Haven would have been the garrison to check. In the wake of the explosion she had had to nearly empty the Denerim garrison to give the Vigil and Ostagar enough men to send circuit patrols to the west. The Vigil would have the best news of the West and whether their wardens had succumbed to the Calling as well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: The details in this chapter clearly do not match the last chapter. This one is more accurate in terms of how the story will go forward.

Elynna’s latest missal from Nathaniel left her off-balance. The Warden Constable had broached the subject in his usual no nonsense manner, but she knew him too well: he had attempted to soften the blow here and there. It didn’t matter. A mass slaughter at the Peace Conclave. She had had high hopes for it; both factions were tiring and it seemed that the best amongst the moderates would attend. Fiona and Adrian abstained from attending and Lord Seeker Lambert was dead, signaling that perhaps a middle ground would be forged bloodlessly. And now all those moderate voices were dead, including the Divine. And Leorah, Hadley, Finn and countless others. Between this travesty and Uldred’s rebellion ten years prior… A mere handful remained of the mages and Templars who constituted the Ferelden Circle before she was conscripted. It had been too long; too much pain, too many deaths. She shed no tears for her family this time; Uldred had taken all she could give, or so she thought. Now she was just hollow. She put aside her feelings on the war and focused on her own responsibilities. The wardens.

Nathaniel had been in close contact with Leliana during all of this, and had given Elynna details on what had occurred. The Warden outpost at Haven was obliterated; inexplicably they were all at the Temple rather than in Haven. Nathaniel was uneasy about what that meant; some officers should have remained, even if there was a Darkspawn resurgence threatening the old tunnels under the mountain. Ferelden’s warden infrastructure relied on communication; no garrison was supposed to engage in idiotic heroics when a single survivor could get a message to the Vigil which could in turn deal with the threat properly. However… It appeared that the tunnels were largely untouched by the blast. The wardens had been in the Temple itself, where they had no right to be there. Elynna had to concur with Nathaniel. It was odd to say the least.

Oddest of all, however, were the accounts of this so-called Herald of Andraste. The only survivor of the Conclave was a member of the Trevelyan family’s delegation to the Conclave, and a former Templar to boot. Elynna snorted. Of course the Trevelyans would have their own delegation; the House’s power was its Chantry association. That and a ridiculous number of advantageous marital alliances across the Free Marches which gave the clan a great deal of leverage, particularly when Chantry related issues cropped up. Now that one of its members was dubiously declared the Herald of Andraste, the Trevelyan family would be eagerly clamoring to take advantage of their perceived blessing. Worse, this Herald was beginning to assert himself politically, backed by the reformed Inquisition. Leliana served as his spymaster, Lady Josephine Montilyet as a diplomatic liaison and the vaunted Hero of Orlais accompanied the Herald in the field. Leliana had apparently noted that the Herald seemed to have a certain… interest… in the Seeker. Recalling Greagoir’s endless cursing of Seekers, Elynna found some humor in that. Varric Tethras had been dragged along as well. Given Leliana’s position, Elynna wondered if she should see if Gareth could get her some less biased information on the Inquisition via Varric. Scanning through the letter Nathaniel had vaguely noted something about a Ben-Hassrath agent and some random elven mage within the inner circle of the inquisition as well; the former was interesting indeed. Finally she let herself go back to the first line of that paragraph; she had initially seen a name, a shadow of her past and had skipped it. She was Warden-Commander and couldn’t afford that sort of childishness, however. Cullen was commanding the military arm of the Inquisition.

She absentmindedly touched the scar on her temple. Uldred’s rebellion had left its mark on both of them and had broken them, turned them against each other. She recalled the day she heard he had been transferred. Just prior to the Battle of Denerim; Greagoir had wanted him sent to Greenfell to level out, to have some peace without needing to fear he’d butcher the mages. Without needing him to be guarded by three Templars night and day. It had seemed like a decent enough plan, but Val Royeax, the Knight-Vigilant himself, had overridden the order. Kirkwall was infested with blood mages and lost Templars at an astonishing rate. There was a standing order for Eastern Templars to be routed to Kirkwall before all other posts. Greagoir had been drawn and angry when he relayed this to Elynna; this was the last thing he wanted for the poor boy. He’d never heal this way, he’d simply learn to hate mages more thoroughly, particularly under Meredith. Elynna had cried that day; Kirkwall had continued to take everything from her. While she had fallen body and soul for Alistair, she couldn’t stop caring for Cullen, or at least the man he once was.

Their fears had been confirmed as Cullen rose quickly in the ranks; it had taken less than a year for his zealotry to earn him the position of Knight-Captain, though Elynna suspected it also had to do with the mortality rate of Templars in Kirkwall as well. And yet when all hell broke loose, Cullen apparently stood against Meredith. He’d left the Templars not long after. Perhaps there was hope for him.

Elynna scrubbed at her eyes, exhausted from her trek across Orlais. She was a week east of Serault, seeking to cross the Tirashan and reach the Hunterhorn Mountains and whatever lay beyond them. Serault would be the last demesne before the wilderness. The Marquisate was supposedly home to some rare magic and the Tirashan had a dark reputation as well. She’d leave no stone unturned in her search to combat the Calling. Some days it seemed as if she could feel it creeping up on her. She turned her attention back to the letter, to distract from her increasingly morbid thoughts. Leliana wasn’t certain if Elynna wanted to know, but nonetheless she informed Nathaniel. Frowning Elynna noted that Nathaniel continued to dance around the subject for a few sentences more. And then the world seemed to stop. Carolus Trevelyan had been amongst the Trevelyan delegation to the Conclave. Her father was dead.

The letter crinkled in her clenched fist. She shook and sobbed, tears streaking on her dirt caked face. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there on the ground, her faithful mabari whining, trying to discern what was wrong with his mistress. Elynna ignored Cafall, angry at herself. Why should she care that he was dead? She’d had no tears for Hadley and Leorah, treasured members of her family who had cared for her for years, or for all those mages, her kindred, who had lost their lives. She barely cried when she had heard Revka died in that explosion Anders caused, or for Anders himself, though that loss still remained a dull ache in her heart.

She recalled reading Carolus’ call for an Exalted March against Kirkwall after that explosion. She had been livid seeing his words, using his former wife’s death as a means to garner attention and prove that he was a true Trevelyan, trying to make Revka seem like some sainted woman in the process. He’d even gone so far as to use her as an example of how magic should properly serve man, and could do so within the confines of the Circles. Nevermind that most weren’t like Ferelden. She had wanted to kill him herself; twenty-five years later and she was suddenly his daughter again? Only because she had defeated the Blight and had friends highly placed at the Grand Cathedral. Only three years earlier had she tried to reconcile with the Trevelyans only for them to make it clear how unwanted she still was. But a chance for political maneuvering comes up and suddenly they were all one happy family, still ignoring that one of his sons had been murdered and the other was tranquil.

He wasn’t worth mourning. He had paid little attention to her before she was a mage and nearly beat her to death on the way to Circle tower. He was a scoundrel in a Templar’s uniform and should have met a worse fate long before this. She tried to rationalize it, but the pain wouldn’t stop, the sobs kept wracking her body.

Snapping twigs brought her attention back to the present. She needed to pull herself together or she’d be killed by something. While she sensed no ‘Spawn in the immediate area, there were always bandits or wolves to be concerned with. She looked up and saw Daylen illumined in the firelight, arms filled with kindling. Her tranquil brother had insisted on coming and she hadn’t had the heart to deny him.

Reaching for her combat magic Elynna pulled herself partially through the fade. Between what Anders found when Justice had touched Karl, Pharamond’s research and her own accidental discovery there was serious progress being made on finding safe means of reversing the Rite of Tranquility. For now, however, the spells the ancient elven spirit had taught her seemed to drawn Daylen out and allow him to reclaim himself. He wasn’t terribly thrilled with how much magic she needed to block his Tranquility, but she needed her brother now.

She saw the change in his eyes as he went from disinterested to concerned. He carefully left the wood out of range of the leaping sparks of their fire and crouched down next to her, holding her.

“Elynna, what’s happened?” She clutched at him and sobbed into his chest as he continued to be baffled by her behavior.  
Realizing it would take time to get information out of her, he held her, still somewhat frustrated that she always had to look like some bizarre sort of spirit each time he truly saw her. The fire had burned low before she was still and looked up into his eyes.  
Save for coloring, Daylen could have easily been mistaken for an older Gareth Hawke, if not his twin. Yet where Gareth’s ever-laughing eyes were a honey brown, Daylen’s shone like green emeralds—the defining feature of House Trevelyan beyond the raven black locks that only their brother Garren had inherited. All three Amell children had their father’s eyes.

That first night crossing the Waking Sea was when it started. He waited until they were in the cabin he’d paid for. A branded child with a Templar, no one questioned anything, yet Carolus was always about appearances. It never happened in public and she hadn’t anticipated it happening. What two year old would? He had always been distant, yet he was her father and she ultimately trusted him. Almost as soon as he’d closed the door she’d received a backhanded blow across the mouth and a torrent of verbal abuse. She learned soon that if she cried or yelled it’d only make it worse. He’d shake her like a ragdoll then force her to look at him while he spewed vitriol at his own child in even tones that didn’t carry. Those green eyes radiating hatred at her all through it.

She had been too worn out, in too much pain that night to care that he collared and chained her like a dog to the bedpost. She slept in the rushes on the floor falling asleep to his snores. She remained there for the duration of the journey, not allowed food or water. Truly the only concession she was allowed was a chamberpot, because Carolus preferred not to deal with her mess. And that was only after an accident had earned her a fierce beating. Thankfully they were off the ship after three days, though the nine day journey from Highever to the Tower differed little. Nearly two weeks from the Amell Estate in Kirkwall to Wynne’s arms at the Tower and somehow Carolus had kept that cold anger fully stoked. Even at the Tower, these memories had haunted her. The demons that clawed at every mage had thrived on that pain. Eventually she found herself resisting them and suppressing the memories to survive, telling herself it had been just some scary tales told by the other apprentices that had frightened her terribly. It would have been so easy to give in to the demons, to just have it all end.

“Dayl…”


End file.
